


Hollow

by starlightandpinot



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Episode: s02e25 Resolutions, F/M, Holodecks/Holosuites, Mutual Pining, New Earth (Star Trek), Porn with Feelings, Post-New Earth, Sexual Content, actually its pretty sad ngl, but like the aftermath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:00:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29166846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightandpinot/pseuds/starlightandpinot
Summary: Kathryn and Chakotay are back aboard Voyager after spending months together on New Earth, and the tension between them is beginning to reach critical levels.
Relationships: Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway
Comments: 21
Kudos: 49





	Hollow

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, hello, and welcome to my very first Star Trek: Voyager fic! I have been shipping J/C ever since I first saw Voyager back in 2013, and I already write fanfiction for other fandoms, and so I thought it's high time I get into writing for this franchise that I love so much! I definitely plan on writing longer/happier fics than this, but this idea just wouldn't leave me alone. Thank you for checking out my fic and I sincerely hope you enjoy!

The nights on New Earth were hot, often reaching one-hundred to one-hundred-fifteen degrees Fahrenheit. It was humid, most nights, and the moist air had the most annoying tendency to stick to Kathryn’s hair, making it stand out and puff up in that way that drove her nuts.

Chakotay called it cute. Kathryn missed her tight, no-nonsense bun.

They are very different people, Kathryn and Chakotay, and it took much longer for her to grow accustomed to life on that empty, desolate planet with only the local fauna for company than it did for Chakotay. But eventually, she did, and both the tomato plants and Kathryn’s spirit blossomed under the warm, yellow sun. She didn’t just _survive_ on New Earth—she _thrived_ —and in such an unexpected way. They were finally growing closer, Kathryn and Chakotay. Closer than life as captain and first officer had ever afforded them aboard Voyager.

It didn’t take long for her to switch back to Captain mode, however, once they beamed back to the ship. Ten, maybe five minutes tops. The moment she sat back in her old, familiar chair on the bridge, she was already ordering repairs to be made and for Tom to step up the warp factor to make up for all that lost time.

Only it wasn’t ‘lost time’, the months they spent on New Earth. It was the complete and utter opposite of _lost_. For the first time since they entered the Delta Quadrant just under two years ago, Kathryn Janeway finally felt _found_. Now, she just feels hollow.

“Good evening, Commander,” Kathryn says, curtly, as the holodeck doors _whoosh_ shut behind her. “Computer, lock the doors. Level ten security.” 

“Level ten?” Chakotay’s lips curl up in amusement. He takes a step closer. “Do you really think that’s necessary?”

He takes her hands into his own and brings one of them to his lips, sending a rush of electricity up her arm and then down, down… _down_. She quickly pulls her hand away, bringing it safely to her side. 

“We have to talk,” she breathes, softening her voice just a tad. 

“About what?”

“Oh, don’t play _coy_ with me, Chakotay.” Her tone is decidedly less soft, this time, as she makes her way over to an exact replica of the light purple couch that exists in her quarters. “You know _exactly_ about what.” 

She sighs and takes a seat, a single hand threading through her hair. A nervous habit she’s had for as long as she can remember. 

“Ever since we’ve been back here, there’s been this… _tension_ between us,” she goes on, skillfully avoiding direct contact with Chakotay’s eyes. “I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I can’t focus on my duties. I can’t even be in the same _room_ with you without…” 

She stops short, her rapidly-increasing breaths audible in the otherwise silence of the room. 

Chakotay steps forward, his strong, able body only inches from her face. He kneels down in front of her and once again takes her hand. “Without...?”

“Without wishing we had done something about it,” she admits, feeling ashamed as she keeps her eyes focused on the light gray carpet of the floor. "On the planet.” 

She swallows hard and forces herself to look up and meet his eyes. His deep, dark, soulful eyes. 

She quickly looks down, again, however; too humiliated by the admission to maintain any amount of eye contact. But Chakotay just reaches out in that soft, quiet way he has about him and lifts her chin, gently prodding her to look back up. His eyes are hungry, yes, but also unfailingly kind. The kindest. And they are warm. So, _so_ warm. 

“There’s only one way to put this behind us, Kathryn,” he says, gently tilting her chin to the side. He leans in closer, hot breath tickling at her ear. “And I think you already know what that is.”

She does know. Of _course_ she knows. But they _can’t_. They just… _can’t_. It would go against all of the parameters she had so carefully put into place, all of the rules she set for herself when they embarked on this journey. It would go against Mark, the fiancé who may or may not still be waiting for her back home, to greet her with open arms upon Voyager’s triumphant return to the Alpha Quadrant.

No, Chakotay is her first officer. And she is the captain. If anything were to happen, if they were to fight or God forbid _break up_ … it would put the crew, the entire chain of command at risk. And for what? A romp in the sack with some guy?

Only it wouldn’t just be a romp in the sack and Chakotay certainly isn’t just _some guy_. It would be _making love_ , in the truest, purest sense of the word. It would be with _Chakotay_ , the only man in the entire universe Kathryn would have gladly spent a hundred years with on that vacant, lonely planet. The only one with equal parts patience and gentleness and ferocity all mixed up into one. And she is quite aware that once she gives in, once _they_ give in, there can be no turning back. 

“We can’t,” Kathryn croaks out and scoots over on the couch, causing Chakotay’s lips to fall to the side and their locked hands to disentangle. “The crew,” she stammers as her forehead meets her palm. It’s sweaty and trembling. “They’re counting on us. They’re depending on us to be strong.”

Chakotay gently grips her shoulders. “We can be stronger _together_.” 

“You say that—”

“I _mean_ that,” Chakotay insists with that damn earnest voice of his. “We’re strong, now, but we’d be even _stronger_ together. I know that and you know that. You’re just too stubborn to admit it.” 

“Me? Stubborn?” She lifts her gaze, letting her lips slide into a sad smile. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Chakotay mirrors her sad smile with one of his own and once again leans in, so close that the tips of their noses lightly graze one another. His smile fades after a moment. The air in the room is thick and the tension, palpable. 

“Computer, run new program,” he says, keeping his dark gaze locked with Kathryn’s. “Chakotay Alpha Seven.” 

The light purples and grays of her quarters fade away, transforming into fields of lush greens as far as the eye can see. The fire is in front of them and she knows that behind them is the river. The couch she had been sitting on just moments before is now made of wood, cut to resemble a lounge chair; one of the many Chakotay had made for them, so that they could sit around the fire pit at night. They spent nearly every night out there, on New Earth, sitting around the fire. Talking, _listening_. Kathryn with her coffee and a book, and Chakotay with his art and a guitar. Those were peaceful nights, she remembers with a smile. The most peaceful she has ever known. 

She thinks about the bathtub and the boat Chakotay built. About their camping trips and the days they spent, swimming in the openness of the seemingly-endless river. How they laid beside one another under a blanket of stars—always close, but never close enough. 

She used to imagine, as they sat outside on those long, hot nights, that in a moment of forgetfulness and passion, Chakotay would reach out and gently stroke a hand down her cheek. She would daydream about him leaning in, planting a series of kisses down the side of her face, from the top of her ear all the way down the slope of her neck. She would let him do it, too, even going so far as to tilt her head to the side, just to give him better access. She would let out soft moans of appreciation, as a way to tell him not to stop—to do _anything_ but stop.

She waited for him to do just that, most nights. Almost anticipated it, at times, whenever he would lean in just a little _too_ close during one of their light-hearted, but heated, conversations. 

But it never came. Not even once. Not because Chakotay didn’t want it. Kathryn knew quite well that he wanted it. Perhaps even more so than she did. She could tell. There were little signs, mostly, but some bigger ones, too. But she also knew that he would never push her farther than she wanted to go, and she had expressly stated that she did _not_ want to go _there_.

Only, she _did_ want to go there. She sometimes thinks that Chakotay knew that, too, and yet he always respected her words, her boundaries, regardless of the way her body would sometimes betray her and speak otherwise. He approached the whole thing with a gentle calmness, always patiently waiting for her to make the first move. Only, she never did.

Still, there are times when she thinks that if only they had been rescued just one or two weeks later, perhaps she and Chakotay would have broken that final parameter, the one Janeway had disallowed for so long, despite their mutual desire. 

“Do you want this, Kathryn?” He asks, gently gliding his lips over the length of her jawbone. “I’ll only keep going if you want me to. If you want this just as much as I do.”

He pulls back and looks her deep in the eyes. There is no falsity, here. She knows her feelings are bare and open, blatant and raw in her eyes. And she knows that even if they weren’t, Chakotay would probably see right through her walls, regardless. But she doesn’t have any walls up this evening. Not anymore. She _does_ want this. No matter what it might cost, no matter the consequences. 

“Yes,” she breathes out a reply, eyes flickering anxiously over Chakotay’s. “I want it.” 

His hands are already on her person before the words are off her lips, pressing her back into the wooden lounger. She gasps at the touch, as fingers come into contact with her waist. It’s one she has waited to feel for so long; his strong, muscular, and surprisingly gentle hands gripping at her sides with a longing that's tangible enough to feel.

He takes his time as he undresses her, just as she always suspected he would. His movements are slow, unhurried, almost teasing in their deliberateness. He keeps his eyes fixed on hers the entire time, only averting briefly when he grips the edge of her panties and drags them down the length of her legs. She is entirely exposed, now; vulnerable and bare under the intensity of his unbreakable gaze.

He’s been waiting for this, she thinks, as his eyes shift back up and lock once again with her own. He’s been waiting for this for so, _so_ long. He doesn’t say it, of course; not aloud, but the words are written all over his face. She wonders how long he has been waiting. Six months? A year? Or perhaps even the entire two? She doesn’t know. She _does_ know, however, that his patience is still unparalleled, regardless of the longing evident in his eyes. Even now that he is about to get everything he’s always wanted, he touches her with gentleness and restraint. No matter how long he’s been waiting, no matter how long he’s wanted this, he doesn’t make any move to rush it.

“Can I?” He asks, hand hovering just centimeters from one of her exposed breasts. It’s been so long since Kathryn has made love with anyone, has been _naked_ with anyone, that it takes her a second to understand what he means. She nods and then a finger is circling slowly around one of her nipples. A surge of desire rushes through her core, down to her lower half, and her eyes close on their own volition. 

Her nipple is soon sheathed inside his mouth and she lets out a sharp gasp. She can’t believe how warm his lips feel against her skin. He swirls his tongue around and around, seeming to relish in the _sounds_ the movement draws from her lips. Bolts of electricity flow through her middle every time his tongue comes into contact with her nipple, shooting down to her groin to the point where she has honestly begun to throb.

A moan falls from her lips as she leans back against the lounger, involuntarily spreading her legs and lifting her bottom an inch or so off the seat. She wants him to touch her there, but his hands just linger on her porcelain-hued hips. So patient. So _frustratingly_ patient.

She knows he wants it to feel good and the more he makes her wait, the better it will feel. But she has never been as calm or as patient as Chakotay and so she slides a rogue finger between her legs, regardless. It’s wet. _She’s_ wet. A soft gasp escapes her throat as she runs a finger up and down her slit and Chakotay pulls back. He smirks and gently removes her finger, eliciting a groan from the depths of her throat. 

“Please,” she whispers, running a hand down the length of his cheek. “I need this.” 

He obliges, willingly, and moments later she is pulling at his hair as his lips come into contact with her center. His tongue is made of magic, darting around every which way as he licks her, flicking up and over in a perfect rhythmic motion. She grunts and falls back against the wooden lounger, yanking tightly at his hair. Her excitement seems to make him excited, in turn, and the more she pulls and begs for him not to stop, the faster and more urgently his tongue flickers over her nub. 

“I’m close,” she pants, gliding her fingers through his hair and pulling as hard as she can without hurting him. Her eyes are lidded, but she keeps them trained on Chakotay, regardless, watching the expression on his face as he devours her. It may just be the most beautiful sight she has ever seen. Her eyes roll back in her head and her entire body shudders. She is so, _so_ close. 

There is a boom, then. Almost sonic in nature. And the entire ship shakes. 

“Computer, freeze program,” she gasps, Chakotay’s tongue coming to a sudden halt against the side of her clitoris. The abrupt cessation of pleasure leaves her entire body once again aching with desire, a nagging sensation just below her belly button. With a sigh, she collapses back onto the lounger and taps her discarded combadge. “Commander, what’s going on up there?” 

She sounds out of breath as she speaks. 

The ship shakes, again, and Chakotay’s voice fills the room. “We’ve just been hit by a displacement wave, Captain.”

“Source?”

“Unknown. Harry is checking the sensors, but there’s too much interference to get an accurate reading.”

“I’ll be right there,” she replies, her steadfast gaze still glued to the pair of brown eyes staring up at her from between her thighs, looking noticeably less warm now that they are frozen in place. “Computer, end program.”

The eyes disappear, along with the lush green hills and the river and the fire and the wooden loungers. She soberly suits back up into her uniform and reluctantly passes through the arch, making her way to the bridge in that same confident, determined manner she always has and probably always will.

Her crew needs her. Needs their captain. And her crew always comes first. 

_Always_. 

**Author's Note:**

> Me? Writing a fic with an ambiguous/unhappy ending? I never thought I would see the day, but here we are, folks. 
> 
> No, but seriously, thank you so much for reading and I really hope you enjoyed this sad, little drabble. If you liked it, please do let me know in the comments as they really help motivate me to write more fics! As I mentioned in the beginning author's note, I do plan on writing longer, happier fics for these two very soon. :)


End file.
